We're always attracted to the edges of what we are, out by the edges where it's a little raw and nervy.

Most people are quiet in the world, and live in it tentatively, as if it were not their own.

I have committed many sins in my life. This precise sin-the sin against poets-is without absolution.

Uncharged with invisible meaning, the visible is nothing, mere clay; and without visible circumstance, a territory, to connect to, our spirit is shapeless, nameless, and undefined.

The theory of the teacher with all these immigrant kids was that if you spoke English loudly enough they would eventually understand.

It was evident to him that the world composed and recomposed itself constantly in an endless process of dissatisfaction.

Dad is always hiding in his book.